Hallowed Be Thy Name
by Carnivorous Mushroom
Summary: He supposes he should be happy, but he's not. He's Naraku – the result of a human bandit's love and lust and greed combined with a demon's selfishness... Not even death could quell his insatiable desire for the awfully pretty priestess. -NarKik, Post-Series, darkish-


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Inuyasha, yo.

**XXX**

_**Hallowed Be Thy Name**_

_**XXX**_

"You are dead."

She says – the girl with white skin, bright brown eyes, and tresses as dark as a moonless midnight. Kikyou is her name. It is appropriate that her namesake is that of a beautiful flower: the girl is gorgeous - all long lashes, lustrous raven hair, and lily-petal soft skin. Any man would die to possess her - the forlorn bellflower. After all, Inuyasha did. Onigumo did; in a figurative sense. He gave up his humanity to attain her beauty; to touch her skin, to kiss her lips, to hear her willowy voice whisper into his ears.

And yet there he is again, standing before her in Naraku's form. Naraku, the fusion of man and demon; the cause of her death – of Onigumo's death.

"As are you." Naraku - or is it really Onigumo? - replies. "I do not understand." And he really doesn't. He is at a complete loss; should he not be rotting away in hell? Should he not be burning away in the flames of oblivion; the same flames that had once licked Onigumo's flesh raw? Yes, he should have been, but then why was Kikyou standing before him amidst the nothingness of his surroundings? Surely one as wicked as he did not belong to heaven, where he had been sure Kikyou had gone off to. He is sure the maiden does not belong to hell either, for despite the rabid hatred she had once let overtake her soul, she had died a righteous woman. It could only be an illusion of hell, he concludes; the beginning of his eternity of torment in the underworld. He wonders when his beautiful hallucination will disappear, leaving him alone and empty.

"Naraku." She speaks again, calling out his name without the usual vestige of disgust in her tone.

"Leave me be, cruel apparition." Naraku waves her off; not wanting to fall into the trap hell has laid out for him. He knows that once he dares to acknowledge her as the real Kikyou, she'll vanish because wickedness does not deserve her – Kikyou, the pinnacle of purity, the deity of all that is beautiful and good. No, Onigumo never deserved her. Naraku never deserved her.

How could he, the bandit Onigumo, have ever thought that he would ever be worthy of her heart?

"I've come to visit you, Naraku." The phantom priestess persists in trying to talk to him, trying to make him lose the remaining remnants of his reason. "I am no apparition." She assures, and Naraku dares to stare into her vibrant ochre eyes, dares to believe they are really hers, Kikyou's, and not the soulless pits of a fraudulent ghost's. He shivers. Her eyes do not have a trace of the bitterness she once beheld when she glared at him; no, she is looking at him with compassion. He is not sure of whether he wants to laugh or cry.

"No, Kikyou hates me. She would have no mercy on me." He tries to believe, tries to will the painful illusion of Kikyou away by turning away from her.

"Then you misjudge me." She sighs gently, "Do you not remember that it was I who saved you so many years ago, Onigumo? Even despite that I knew your true nature, your wicked ways, still I tended to you. Still I offered you salvation."

"And look how I repaid that. I killed you, time and time again." He feels himself trembling. He wants to throw himself at her feet; wants to scream words of regret, but he subdues himself, because he forces himself to believe _she is not real._

"That you did," Kikyou answers matter-of-factly, and Naraku feels his heart lurch and tangle and knot in what he assumes must be guilt, "You took my love and my life. And though I could only look at you with loathing before, I've let go of my hate. Isn't it time to let go of yours too?"

"_The jewel didn't grant your true wish, did it, Naraku?"_ Kagome's words resound through the empty chasm of white light that envelops both Naraku and Kikyou. If she hears her reincarnation's voice, Kikyou doesn't acknowledge it, she just merely stares up at him with her bright doe eyes; her pink-shaded lips set into the usual serious line she wore when not angry or mad or happy or sad. _Such an innocent look,_ Naraku thinks, wanting to touch the porcelain doll in front of him.

"All I ever wanted, Kikyou, was your heart." Naraku says, tenderly, and the tone feels all wrong coming from his mouth. Kikyou blinks at his declaration, but says nothing as the man crumples to his feet, tilting his head to study her towering figure. The girl is so awfully pretty, Naraku thinks as he lets his eyes draw each and every one of her doll-like features. She is as beautiful as she was in life, if not more. It is the first time he's seen her not decked in her priestess regalia; instead, she wears a pristine white kimono crested with little pale silver flowers all around, and a matching robe over it. Her hair is tied back by her usual white ribbon and her lips and cheeks appear to be smudged by an almost rosy pink.

"I know." She finally speaks, as she lowers herself to his level, peering into his eyes - _his soul_ - and Naraku can no longer resist hell's torment, if that is what it is. He hugs her.

And she hugs him back.

The girl is a saint, he thinks, as he gets lost in the feeling of her slender arms wrapped around his torso. Pious Kikyou, hallowed Kikyou, was embracing him, and he felt for once at peace. All the negative feelings he had ever experienced, all the hatred he had caused, all the wicked acts he had performed; he felt them wither away into the white void around them.

Daringly, his hands move from her back and crawl into her hair, entangling themselves in the thick satin mass of black. He unties her white ribbon and lets the long tendrils of hair cascade down her back, like a glistening black waterfall. _She isn't real,_ a voice nags deep inside, but he doesn't care; the Shikon no Tama was finally granting his wish, and though the phantasm that let him pet her hair and touch her face might not have been the Kikyou of flesh and blood, she was still the saintly young woman whom had once obliviously seduced him. In visage and psyche, the woman was the same.

"Kikyou…" Naraku whispers against a perfect ear lobe, brushing his lips against it, and then follows the line of her jaw to plant a kiss upon her chin, cheek, and then her soft lips. He shudders at the feeling.

He nudges her down on her bottom so that he kneels over her, still moving his lips against hers in flawless rhythm, and soon, he is tugging at the kimono that so gracefully accents her womanly figure. His eyes devour the pale white skin of her sloping shoulders, the contour of her prominent collarbone, the impervious naïve gaze she sets upon him, and suddenly he feels very ashamed. He feels dirty. Disgusted at himself for wanting to plunder the virgin white snow that was her unexplored skin. Funny, Naraku thinks, never before had he let shame deter him. Never before had he known he _had _shame.

He knew no shame; had known no shame.

Kikyou interrupts the half-demon's inner monologue by placing her slim hand against his own. Up until then, the woman had only been wordlessly following along, but at the cool touch of her hand, he feels the fire brew though him again, rekindling the passion that had once lead him to make a pact with demons. He is Onigumo again, lying in that dank cave, at the mercy of Kikyou's cool fingertips against his very heated flesh. Only this time, he can move, and he takes advantage as he takes her lips again.

And he plunders the virgin white snow, just like he'd wanted to fifty years ago, before he had torn Kikyou apart, before the demons took advantage of his woe and cut him off for half a century. It was just what he had expected it to be – never had he felt such grandiose pleasure. It was pure, sweet sacrilege.

Onigumo was a vile man. He'd travelled the countryside, pillaging villages, killing innocent people, and causing misfortune. He'd had many women in his lifetime; many by force, many consensual. Prostitutes, village girls, married women; he'd tasted all types of pretty women (for Onigumo never cared for ugly girls), yet only one had ever piqued his interest. Only one had set both his loins and heart on fire. Only Kikyou would he enjoy for more than a night, would he _want_ to enjoy for more than a night – in body and spirit.

That one woman, that one beautiful majesty of a woman, had managed to ensnare him in the webbings of love. "Kikyou…" The demon spider murmurs as he buries his face into her silky hair. He knows the jewel of four souls will not be so generous, he knows it will take his Kikyou away soon, out of his grasp, into the white abyss of nothingness. The thought makes him cringe.

Naraku tightens his grip possessively over the lithe body entrapped in his limbs, kissing her everywhere his mouth can reach, trying to make the moment last before she slips away. The woman in his arms only makes soft sounds against the silence and allows herself to be ravished by his greedy mouth. "Naraku…" She whispers so lowly he isn't sure if the syllables of his name on her tongue were real or a trick of his mind. The supple warm flesh of her body starts to immaterialize and he begins to panic.

"No, Kikyou don't go!" Naraku bellows as her colorless form slithers out of his grasp and begins to float away.

"The Shikon no Tama was generous." Kikyou voices; her melancholy fawn eyes fading away. "But not too generous. Farewell, Naraku. Or should I say Onigumo?"

"Kikyou! Kikyou! Kikyou!" He chants feverishly as her figure wanes away, like a crescent moon does night after night. He supposes he should be happy, but he's not. He's Naraku – the result of a human bandit's love and lust and greed combined with a demon's selfishness. He's avaricious and he always wants more. Not even death could quell his insatiable desire for the awfully pretty priestess.

But he's also human, and as the last of Kikyou's silhouette fades away, Onigumo weeps. He feels the same as he did fifty years ago, after Kikyou had followed Inuyasha in death.

He feels alone and empty, once again.

**XXX**

**Author's Notes:** Alright, so this little oneshot here happened because I was perusing fanfiction and I happened to notice there was more NarKago fics than NarKik fics. That kind of made me really sad, since Narkik is sort of (one-sided) canon. Now, don't get me wrong, I like crack pairings myself, but still, that kind of surprised me. More crackpairing Naraku/Kagome than the more mainstream (is that the right word for it?) Naraku/Kikyou? Also, there is more SessKik fanfics… Whoa. I always thought there'd be more NarKik. Ah well, here is my addition to the NarKik community. Wooo! 'Cos the Narkik fandom needed some more lovin'.

P.S. I hope this was somewhat good. It's kind of drabble-ly. Onigumo/Naraku were used interchangeably on purpose. And yeah, the title refers to Christianity and I know in feudal Japan there was no Christianity, but I felt like it was appropriate for this oneshot… Since Naraku venerates Kikyou in this. It also sounds cool, in my weird mind. Constructive criticism and/or any opinions would be much appreciated! Thank you!


End file.
